


Cosmic Kisses for Stargazing Lovers

by FanFictionIsMyWeakness



Category: South Park
Genre: Anal Sex, As in Craig isn't a sexual person but he really likes sex with Tweek, Craig really loves space, Demisexual Craig?, Exhibitionism, First Time, Growing Up, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Out, Rimming, Sexual exploration, Sexually Adventurous Tweek, Spanking, Teenage Marijuana Use, Teenage Tobacco Use, and he excessively calls Tweek 'beautiful', boys in lingerie, mild bondage, sexual awakening, teenage drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-31 00:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12664677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanFictionIsMyWeakness/pseuds/FanFictionIsMyWeakness
Summary: Before Tweek and he had delved into the sexual aspect of their relationship, Craig had always assumed he was the more perverse of the two and, truthfully, that assumption was strictly comparative. Man, he had never been more happy to be so wrong about something.ORIn which Craig discovers that sexual awakening is just part of growing up, and that there's no one he'd rather discover this with than Tweek.





	Cosmic Kisses for Stargazing Lovers

**Author's Note:**

> Because a heavy majority of this story is focuses on Craig's perspective, I kept his experiences with sex and physical intimacy closest to me own, solely to make the story as believable as possible. Personally, I identify best as demisexual/gray-ace, so there may be implications that that's what Craig is, as well. However, I don't focus much on labels, and more on the feelings behind these and new and exciting sexual encounters, and often times I have written Craig in a way where he is experiencing sexual attraction, but those feelings are strictly reserved for his long term boyfriend whom he loves very much, so take that as you will. Overall, this isn't a story about demisexuality, but rather the sexual and romantic relationship between two individuals and how that relationship has managed to grow over time. I think physical intimacy can play an important role in strengthening a romantic relationship, so long as both parties are willing and excited to engage in the intimacy, and I wanted to show that with my two favorite South Park boys. This story was a lot of fun for me to write and I hope that you all can enjoy it.

Before Tweek and he had delved into the sexual aspect of their relationship, Craig had always assumed he was the more perverse of the two and, truthfully, that assumption was strictly comparative. Sure, he had discovered the joys and wonders of masturbation earlier than most kids his age, at the fresh faced and wondrous young age of eleven, but he had also been thrust into a serious and committed relationship at a young age, and thus found himself exploring his sexuality and his body earlier than most kids. Not to mention, he was an early bloomer -the first of his class to start developing acne and the first to hit major growth spurts. When the rest of the kids in his class were complaining about the girls being taller than them, he found himself tripping over his own awkwardly long legs, his body a good four inches taller, at least, than anyone else in his grade. At twelve, he had already reached a respectable height of five feet and ten inches, and was well aware that he still had quite a bit of growing to do. So it wasn't much of a surprise when he found himself jacking off before he even reached middle school, because frankly, it would have been more surprising if he _hadn't_ been. Still, Craig Tucker wasn't a particularly _sexual_ person. Sure, he was reasonably curious, as any child learning about sex for the first time would be, but he never found himself _desiring_ it, which he had at first attributed to his age. Twelve was an awkward stage were certain kids were sexually charged and perverse to a fault, where as others still slept with stuffed animals and called their mother's “mommy.” and Craig, well, he found himself somewhere in the middle of all that.

 

Thinking back, Craig's come to realize that every time he and his boyfriend explored a new and exciting sexual exploit, it had been Tweek to initiate, whereas Craig would just roll with the punches. He experienced his first kiss at ten, an awkward and clumsy peck of lips that had the both of them blushing furiously. Tweek had surprise attacked him, all of a sudden clutching Craig's shoulders before standing on his tip toes to mash their lips together and bolting away before Craig even had time to process what was happening. And they kissed plenty more after that, the act becoming more and more natural as they gave each other soft, chaste kisses upon hellos and goodbyes. When they were twelve, it had been Tweek to initiated open-mouth kissing, slotting their lips together clumsily as his fingers curled into the fabric of Craig's sweatshirt and refusing to let go. They were alone at the time, playing video games in Craig's room as his parents and sister were out of the house. They had been sitting on the floor with their legs crossed and their shoulders pressed together before Tweek suddenly paused the game, turning to Craig with a look that was so serious it was almost funny.

 

Really, whenever he recalls the memory, Craig kicks himself for having not seen it coming, but at the time, he found Tweek's action to be so sudden that he had initially jumped in surprise. He warmed up to the kissing easily, however, as he let his hands rest cautiously on Tweek's waist, finger tips just lightly grazing the fabric of his shirt as he kissed back, moving his lips just enough to allow them to part slightly before slotting together once again. They repeated the motion a few more times, getting a feel for each other's lips and bodies and mouths as they tried to figure out what, exactly, they thought they were doing. Ultimately, when they pulled away, Craig hadn't thought much of it. Sure, it had been nice being so close to another person, and Tweek's lips were soft and warm and full, but he supposed that he had always expected _more_ from the act of making out with someone -as if it would be some magical thing that would make his knees weak and his heart hammer against his sternum, but it was really just.. kind of nice. Nothing amazing or world changing or enchanting, just a vaguely pleasant sensation that left his lips feeling warm and maybe a little numb. Part of him wanted to try again, but then Tweek was resuming the game and he supposed that experience was over for the time being.

 

They practiced a lot more over the course of middle school, adding tongues and teeth when they so desired and occasionally letting their hands wander ever so slightly under each other's shirts and graze flushed, heated skin with their fingertips. As they neared the end of their eighth grade year, Craig newly fourteen and Tweek only a month away, thinking about how exciting and terrifying high school would be, they found themselves becoming _that_ couple, too absorbed in themselves and each other to notice where they were or who they were with, and couldn't be bothered to acknowledge places that were and _were not_  appropriate for making out. Craig remembered having Tweek pressed against his locker during passing, one hand riding up his boyfriend's shirt to feel the movements of his shoulder blades and slightly defined muscles, while the other stroked the bare skin of Tweek's hip with the pad of his thumb. Tweek's fingers were tangled in his hair, hat having been pushed off his head and long forgotten as their lips continued to move together, opening wider to make room for each other's tongues. Sometimes, Craig would find himself wondering if they looked weird to an outside eye, mouths gaped open and pressed together, just the slightest hints of pink tongues flicking across minuscule openings to give any indication to what was going on.

 

However, it was always his boyfriend's soft moans and heated skin that brought Craig back to the present moment, and he would suck Tweek's tongue into his mouth and gently bite his lower lip, before pushing his body back against the locker, the slight _crash_ a bit jarring for a few seconds before he found himself too wrapped up in lips and tongues and _Tweek_ to care. They wouldn't separate until the hallways were completely cleared out and the late bell rang and they knew they would get another call home about all their tardies, and they'd pull away with an audible _pop_ and a grumble from Craig and a nervous bubble of laughter from Tweek. Craig rested his forehead against Tweek's, faces flushed and lips kiss-swollen as he continued to stroke the bare skin of his boyfriend's hip. “We could just ditch, you know.” He'd suggest and Tweek would bite his lip and glance awkwardly around the hallway, as if he were making sure no one heard. “My parents are working and Ruby's at school. We can make out on the couch. Maybe dry hump a little.” Tweek's eyes snapped back to Craig, wide with an emotion he couldn't quite decipher as hands slipped from his hair and trailed down to his biceps.

 

“What if we get caught?” Tweek asked, voice dropped to a whisper, green eyes wide and desperate. Craig shrugged.

 

“I don't mind taking the fall. I'm used to getting in trouble.” Tweek chewed at the corner of his lip and Craig couldn't help but track the motion with his eyes, licking his lips almost subconsciously.

 

“Okay.” He said, so softly that, for a moment, Craig wasn't sure he heard properly. But no, Tweek had agreed to ditching the rest of the school day in favor of making out, of feeling each others' lips and bodies pressed against one and other. Really, Craig couldn't have gotten out of there fast enough, speed walking all the way to his house and not letting go of Tweek's hand _once_. When the reached his front door, Craig basically kicked it down before pulling Tweek in by the waist and smashing their lips together again. Later, Craig would realize that that look in his boyfriend's eyes had been a mix of excitement and lust, that the idea of trouble and danger and stepping out of line turned him on. And later than that, after he was pushed on to his couch, straddled, and being ground against like an animal in heat, after he found a hand down his pants and delicate fingers wrapped around the shaft of his dick, after being jerked off so intensely, with a tongue on his neck and fingers in his hair, that he'd cum in his pants like some sort of –well-- like some sort of _middle schooler_ , he'd come to a realization, perhaps bigger than any other he'd ever had, that Tweek, sweet, nervous, blushing Tweek, was far more sexual and perverse than Craig would ever be. And as shocking as that revelation was initially, as they snuggled together afterwards, Tweek's head against his shoulder and arms wrapped around his waist, Craig would come to another revelation: He _liked_ it.

 

In all honesty, Craig wasn't certain what constituted as “losing his virginity,” or, for that matter, when it happened. If _fucking_ _around_ and actual _fucking_ weren't the same thing, than he supposed it would've been when he was sixteen and a little drunk and his boy friend a little high and quick handjobs and fingering and messy, five minute blowjobs just _weren't cutting it_ , and Craig watched as Tweek sunk himself down on him, wincing slightly, wiggling his ass after bottoming out to get accustomed to the new sensation and making Craig moan because _holy shit_ he was tight and hot and velvety and _beautiful._ Maybe Craig really was too drunk for this shit, but he really needed Tweek to get used to it because he wanted nothing more than to grip his boyfriend's hips and thrust up, to split him open and ravish him, or else he'd feel like he was losing his fucking mind. When Tweek finally started moving, his thighs quivering a little and head thrown back and breathing shallow and uneven, Craig had to do everything in his power to not cum then and there. He tried not to push, to let Tweek take control so he could be as comfortable as possible in order to make this epirience as _enjoyable_ as possible, but holy shit, Craig's grip on Tweek's delicate hips was tight enough to leave bruises and his teeth were grit so hard he could feel his jaw getting sore. He didn't like being out of control, didn't like laying there uselessly as his boyfriend did all the work.

 

“O-okay,” Tweek breathed out, slumping forward as his hands splayed out on Craig's chest. He swallowed, eyes wide and nervous and a little bit blood shot. “I'm okay. You can move.” Craig let out a sigh of relief, grip loosening on Tweek's hips. He lifted his torso so they were both sitting up fully, eyes locked and chests pressed together. He cupped Tweek's face in his left hand, thumb running over a soft cheekbone.

 

“Tell me if I'm hurting you.” He said and Tweek nodded, mouth open slightly to let out his heavy breaths. When Craig rolled his hips, Tweek let his he tilt back and his eyes flutter closed, a soft moan escaping his lips. He moved his hands from Craig's chest to wrap around his shoulders, fingers playing with the hair at the base of his neck. They moved slowly that first time, both too nervous to intiate anything more, to let themselves get lost in sensation and to fuck fast and rough, to allow themselves to scream and growl and cry out as they left hickies on each other's skin and dragged their nails down each other's backs. Instead, the rolled together with soft, heavy breaths and murmured sweet words and let their lips barely graze precious skin, seasoned with salty sweat and horomones.

 

Later, when Craig mentioned it to his friends at school, Clyde told him it didn't count, which Craig thought was utter bullshit. Clyde was always the one to shut him down, telling him that handjobs and blowjobs and rim jobs and fingering didn't count, and that Craig still had his “V card” in place. This time, his excuse was that they weren't sober.

 

“You can't do that, man.” Clyde argued, seeming slightly _offend_  at the prospect of Craig having fucked his boyfriend while they were both under the influence of something. “If you want to fuck someone, it has to _count_ , and it doesn't count if you're _fucked up._ ” Craig rolled his eyes, because he was almost certain the only reason Clyde was throwing a fit over this was because he didn't want to be the only one in their group who was still a virgin.

 

“My dick was literally in Tweek's ass, and you're telling me it doesn't count.” Craig repeated, and he's not exactly bothered, he's just trying to clarify that, yes, that is, in fact, what Clyde is trying to say to him. He can't tell if that's what he's hearing or not.

 

“Right.” Clyde said. “Because you guys weren't sober. You can't give consent if you're not sober.” He crossed his arms over his chest, looking so smug and proud of himself that Craig couldn't help but stare at him dumb founded for a second.

 

“I'm pretty sure it was completely consensual, dude. We've been dating for, like, six years.” Clyde pursed his lips, shrugging slightly as he still refused to uncross his arms.

 

“Still doesn't count.”

 

If Craig cared enough to take Clyde's words to heart, than he would have considered losing his virginity two days after, on a Friday night with pizza and video games, both having been completely forgotten about the second Tweek entered Craig room and pushed him against the neared wall, lips attacking his hungrily. Recently, Craig had had another growth spurt, shooting up from six feet tall, exactly, to six feet, two and a half inches, whereas Tweek had stayed the same height of five feet, four inches since they were thirteen, making the difference between them almost comical. Tweek had to stand on his toes to meet Craig's lips, while Craig had to stoop down, hands tightening around his boyfriend's waist and tugging him closer, letting their hips meet as Tweek began to rut against him. He let out a high pitched whine as Craig's lips attached themselves to the side of his neck, his teeth scraping against the skin before sucking it into his mouth, tongue laving over the spot.

 

“Craig,” he panted, the sound of his breathy, beautiful voice music to Craig's ears. “Please,” his hand cupped the front of Craig's jeans, applying the slightest bit of pressed as he began to rub circles through the material. “I want you. I want to feel you.” They broke away for a moment, looking deeply into each other's eyes, Tweek's pupil's blown and cheeks flushed. He chewed the corner of his lip, in that way that Craig found so beautiful and endearing before nuzzling his nose into the side of Craig's neck. “won't you have me?” He murmured and Craig felt all the blood trapped in his face rush south, pulsing in his lower abdomen and pushing against the hem of his jeans, tightening them to an uncomfortable level.

 

“Fuck,” he muttered, letting his head fall back against the wall as he stared up at the ceiling. He swallowed thickly, adam's apple bobbing and if he had been paying better attention, he would have caught the way Tweek's eyes followed the movement, lust filled and hungry. He glanced back at Tweek and the look on his face was so desperate and debauched that Craig wanted nothing more than to tackle him to the bed and _ravish_ him, to eat him out until he was screaming in pleasure, to jerk him off until his thighs shook and then flip him onto his back and suck and lick and _fuck_ until the sun came up over the horizon. “Do you want me to fuck you, babe?” He asked, and would have smirked had it not been a genuine question. Had he not spoken to Clyde two days prior, he probably wouldn't have even thought to ask, would have just assumed that that's what Tweek wanted, and would tell him if the answer was otherwise, but for whatever reason, Clyde's stupid comments about consent had gotten to him and Craig need to make absolute sure.

 

Tweek nodded, but glanced away from Craig's gaze, as if, all of a sudden, he was nervous. “Yes, but, uh,” he twiddled his fingers together anxiously, sucking his lip between his teeth as he continued to fidget. “I had this idea, and it's a little out of the ordinary, but keep an open mind.” Tweek stepped away from the wall, going toward his backpack, which Craig hadn't even realized he'd brought with him, and slowly, with trembling hands, unzipped the first pocket. Part of Craig had been expecting the worst, as though his boyfriend of _six years_ had some secret pee or animal fetish that he was just now finding out about, so he almost sighed in relief when Tweek produced a few pieces of rope instead. Sure, Craig wasn't the most sexually driven person in existence, except, of course, when sex came between Tweek and himself, but he had an internet connection and therefore had watched a respectable amount of porn in his life, so he knew a _bit_ about bondage, although he had never considered it an option within his own sex life. Still, seeing his boyfriend offering such a thing, looking so nervous and vulnerable and _adorable_ , Craig realized that maybe he _would_ be interested.

 

“Is this too weird?” Tweek asked and Craig shook his head.

 

“What do you want me to do?”

 

Twenty minutes later, he found himself kneeling behind a naked Tweek, ass in the air, chest pressed against the mattress, and thighs spread lewdly. He hands were bound behind his back, the ropes tied just tight enough to restrict mobility without digging into his skin, and his ankles, crossed and quivering with anticipation, were tied at the Achilles tendon. Craig was still fully clothed, upon his boyfriend's request, as he ran his index finger lightly over the dip of Tweek's spine, making him shiver. He bent over Tweek's body, mouth up to his ear. “Is this okay?” He asked and watched as the other boy turned his head to the side, cheek pressed against the bedding. He grinned.

 

“Perfect.” He almost purred and something about that tone of voice went straight to Craig's dick, cheeks dusting slightly red. He ground his front against Tweek's bare ass, the denim of his jeans probably scratching supple flesh, but Tweek moaned out nonetheless. His body shook already, and Craig wondered if bondage turned him on that much, or if Craig was just _that_ good. It was probably a mix of both, plus Tweek was prone to jitters. He squeezed Tweek's ass in his hands, massaging the skin before bringing his hand down to land a light slap against one cheek. Tweek jolted, muscles tensing slightly before releasing just as quickly. He moaned, eyes drifting to lock on Craig's. “Harder, please.” He said, softly and with just the right inflection to make Craig's heartbeat faster. He brought his hand down again, this time the sound of skin hitting skin loud enough to reverberate throughout the room. Tweek yelped, his body jumping forward as Craig watched his muscles clench around nothing. There was a light red mark where his hand had been, decorating Tweek's pretty, cream-colored flesh with patches of strawberry pink and Craig couldn't help the swell of pride in his chest at the realization that _he_ did that, he was the one to leave his marks on Tweek, to make him let out all those pretty little whines and mewls and cry's of pleasure.

 

He dipped his head down, gripping one of Tweek's ass cheeks in each hand as he spread them apart, watching his rim twitch and quiver in excitement. Craig pressed his tongue to it, listening in delight to Tweek's soft, broken moan as he slowly dragged his tongue along the skin there, teasing and cruel and knowing it was just enough to keep Tweek on edge without being fully satisfied. He circled it with the tip of his tongue leisurely, before slowing pushing past the rim and inside, stroking Tweek's walls. His lips were now flushed against the rim and he sucked at it lightly, making his boyfriend gasp and shake under his tongue. He rolled it, letting the tip flick against his boyfriend's inner walls before pulling back out completely, much against Tweek's soft whines of protest, in favor of running the flat of his tongue along the ring of muscle. He replaced his mouth with his index finger, rubbing slow, soothing circles around the spit slicked center before slowly pushing in to the first knuckle. Tweek gasped, his body jolting as he tried to push back, to take in more.

 

“Please, more, please.” He said, his voice practically a sob and Craig wondered how he could sound so devastated already, so absolutely broken and used and _wrecked_ , because as far as he was concerned, Craig hadn't even gotten to the good part yet.

 

“Shh,” he murmured, smoothing one hand over Tweek's back, rubbing circles along his spine with the pad of his thumb. “It's okay, honey. Let me take care of you.” He pressed a kiss to the back to Tweek's neck, quirking his finger up to massage at his boyfriend's inner walls before slowly adding a second finger. He heard Tweek hiss at the burn of the stretch, and Craig regretted having not coated his fingers in lube. They had done _things_ of this nature before, and Tweek had previously admitted that he, more often than not, would finger and stretch himself when he jerked off, but that didn't change the fact that their overall experience with anal was limited, meaning that plenty of lube was an absolute must, and spit and sweat didn't count. Still, Tweek's breathing evened out after a moment of adjustment, soon growing heavier and into little pants of desperation that made Craig's head spin. He wanted nothing more than to rip his shirt over his head and shimmy his pants down his legs to take the layers off his over heated skin, but somehow managed to control himself. Tweek made it clear that he wanted Craig to stay clothed this time.

 

“It's hotter that way,” he'd said, biting his lip and shifting his eyes away from Craig's heavy gaze. “It's, uh, kinda like.... oh Jesus,” Tweek had tipped his head back, letting out a long breath of air and squeezing his eyes shut as Craig continued to stare at him, focused and genuinely interested. “It's like you're using me, like I'm a, sorta, an object and my only purpose is to get you off.”

 

Craig had furrowed his brows, leaning back a bit as he studied Tweek quizically. “And... you want that? Why?” Tweek squirmed in his place, clutching the pieces of rope so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

 

“I guess because I know it's just pretend.” He shrugged, opting to take one hand away from his grip on the rope in favor of running it through his hair. “I mean, it's just, like, a fantasy, right? And afterward you'll hold me and kiss me and tell me how much you love me, so I won't _actually_ feel like I'm being used. It's sort of like... a game? I guess?”

 

Tweek, Craig concluded, had a strange, and rather broad, definition of 'game.' But always the one to appease, had agreed without much thought, and thus found himself bent over his beautiful, amazing, _filthy_ whore of a boyfriend, two fingers curling inside his ass and Craig's tongue pressed against his neck. Everything felt so _hot_ , under the layers of his sweatshirt and his heavy jeans and his knit hat, which Tweek had also insisted he left on, which originally Craig hadn't thought to be a problem, but was quickly finding the ends of his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat and realizing that he'd rather have his hat _off_ during sex. Still, he did as Tweek pleased because _everything_ Craig did, that was inherently sexual in nature, was because Tweek pleased, and he would do anything to make his boyfriend happy and satisfied. Which apparently meant kinky shit with ropes and spanking and mild physical harm. Whatever. Craig would enjoy anything, so long as he got to hear those beautiful whimpers and moans that escaped Tweek's lips as his body shook and his thighs quivered.

 

Craig curled his fingers, rubbing against the inner walls as his knuckles lighting ran against the rim, and Tweek cried out, burying his face in the bedding as he tried to muffle those wonderful, beautiful, perfect noises and pushed back against Craig's fingers.

 

“I'm gonna fuck you now.” Craig murmured against his ear, slowly pulling the digits out and drowning in the sound of Tweek's sweet, impatient whine. He reached over to his bed side table, grabbing the bottle of lube set out there, before unbuttoning his pants and shoving them just far enough down his thighs to release the confines of his dick. He squirted a generous amount on to his palm before slicking himself up, a shiver running up his spine at the anticipation building in the pit of his stomach. He gripped Tweek's hip with one hand and the base of his cock with the other, lining himself up with his boyfriend's opening before slowly, _deliciously_ , pushing inside. Tweek let out three magical little _'Ah's'_ in the time to took for Craig to fully bottom out, the muscles in his thighs clenching tightly before relaxing just as quickly two or three times over.

 

“You're so beautiful.” Craig whispered against the shell of his ear, rolling his hips so they were flush against Tweek's ass. He hands smoothed up Tweek's hips, resting on his waist, before slowly sliding back down.

 

When they actually got to _fucking_ , it was still slow and tender and gentle, just like the first time, only involving a new position and a bit more movement restriction. Craig was cautious when it came to sex because he had always seen Tweek as something delicate and fragile and he was still trying to figure out all the pleasures of his _own_ body, so the prospect of figuring out someone else's was a bit intimidating. Rough, brutal, unforgiving sex just wasn't something he could find himself being fully comfortable with at that time, out of fear that not only would he hurt Tweek, but also that he wouldn't be any good at it. Sex was great, sure, but Craig found the emotional intimacy and physical closeness it produced to be much more fulfilling than the actual pleasure of it, which meant that he was more concerned about it being good for Tweek than himself, because Craig knew that no matter _what_ they did, it would still be good for him. So he moved slowly and whispered sweet nothings into his boyfriend's ear, telling him about his beauty and how much Craig loved him, and how _good_ he was being, and Tweek would respond with soft hums or musical little _ah's_ that drove Craig absolutely wild. When they finished, Craig was quick to untie the ropes, giving the strain on Tweek's joints a rest as they collapsed on the bed, holding each other close and snuggling under the covers.

 

“Are you okay?” Craig asked, his lips brushing against Tweek's temple as his eyes began to flutter closed from exhaustion. “I didn't hurt you, did I?” Tweek shrugged, a soft smile grazing his lips as he lifted his head to press a kiss to Craig's own.

 

“My shoulders are a little sore from being bent at an awkward angle, and I have a little chaffing from the ropes, but,” he yawned, burying his face in the crook of Craig's neck. “It was still good.” Craig hummed, running his finger tips up and down the length of Tweek's spine before kissing the crown of his head. “Did you like it?” Tweek asked nervously, and Craig had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

 

“Of course.” He said. “I like anything with you.”

 

The next time they fucked, it was two weeks later and Craig had recently turned seventeen. The weather was just warm enough for them to lay out a blanket on the grass at night, over looking the hill tops and watching the stars. Craig had always loved outer space, and he spent a good portion of their night pointing out constellations and galaxies and planets, the likes of which Tweek had never bothered to pay attention to. It was nice for them to get outside and breathe in the fresh air and indulge in one of Craig's guiltiest pleasures. But Tweek had always been easily distracted, and some how, some way, they end up with their lips locked and fingers tangled in each other's hair. They rolled on the blanket, shifting so that Tweek's body is pressed on top of Craig's and his legs are straddling the other's hips. Since middle school, Craig had been cautious about public displays of affection, but it was late and dark and their set up was on the outskirts of town, so the likelihood of someone finding them in such a compromising position was limited. Tweek's body _ached_ for contact and he found himself impatient as his tongue slipped past Craig's lips, flicking inside his mouth before colliding with his boyfriend's own tongue.

 

“Love you.” He whispered against Craig's skin, voice soft and breathy and _gorgeous_.

 

“Love you, too.” Craig replied before wrapping his arms around Tweek's waist and pulling their bodies as flush together as possible. “You're so beautiful.” He broke the kiss in favor of running his lips over the expanse of Tweek's neck, pressing soft kisses over random patches of skin before sucking them into his mouth and running his tongue over the reddening areas. Tweek hummed in approval.

 

After they'd finished, both sweaty and flushed and spent, Craig lit a cigarette. He didn't usually smoke after sex, at least he hadn't in the past, but his heart was beating especially fast and he needed something to keep him grounded. His shirt had been flung away long ago and he still couldn't be bothered to get up and find it, and his pants were still unbuttoned. Tweek was curled against his side, head resting on his shoulder, a sleepy, content smile on his face and wearing nothing but the same over-sized button down he came in -completely unbuttoned and baggy and hanging off his slender frame- and a pair of gray boxer-briefs. Tweek glanced up after a moment of content silence, eyes half lidded with exhaustion and peering at the half finished cigarette dangling out of Craig's mouth.

 

“Can I have a drag?” He asked and Craig shrugged, handing it over to his boyfriend, who took a long drag before expertly blowing smoke out of full, parted lips. Craig, in that exact moment, was convinced that the image of Tweek smoking was the hottest thing he'd ever seen and that it would be burned into his brain for the rest of his life. “This shit will kill you, man.” Tweek said, before taking another long, slow inhale. Craig couldn't help the grin that graced his lips.

 

“Yeah,” he replied before taking the cigarette back. “Which is why I'm cutting you off. These things are pretty addictive and I don't wanna see you hooked on something. Again.” Tweek pressed his lips together, snuggling closer into Craig's side.

 

“I guess you're right.” He agreed, voice sounding sleepy and far away, as if he were about to drift off mid-conversation. “I get twitchy when I have cravings.” Craig grinned.

 

“You're twitchy anyway.” He reminded his boyfriend, whose lips, as if to demonstrate, twitched up to resemble a soft, amused smile.

 

“ _Extra_ twitchy.” He clarified. “And besides, I'm not always twitchy. I'm not twitchy right now.”

 

“That's because I fucked it out of you.” Craig said, and grinned widely when he heard Tweek snort and shove at his shoulder, as if to shut him up. He watched as wide, amused green eyes peered up at him, a soft smile gracing full, delicate lips. They stayed like that for a while, eyes locked and gentle smiles on their lips and all Craig could think about was just how much he loved this boy. Until he watched that sweet, content expression morph into one of panicked horror. Tweek sat up quickly, accidentally knocking the side of his forehead against Craig's, but not bothering to acknowledge that bit.

 

“Oh shit - _Jesus_ \- where's you're shirt?” He asked, looking around frantically. Craig shrugged and tried to stop himself from laughing, but couldn't seem to hide the amused look that crossed his features. “ _Craig,_ ” Tweek scolded, looking absolutely horrified at the prospect of Craig not caring about their current predicament. “This isn't funny! What if we can't find it and you have to go home shirtless and your parents catch you sneaking in and they ask you why you're not wearing a shirt and walking around town in the middle of the night?” Craig shrugged again, trying and failing to suppress his amused grin.

 

“Then I'll tell them the truth; I was out with you. It's not like they don't _know_.” This, however, only seemed to panic Tweek more as he dropped his head in his hands and groaned, incredibly displeased with this revelation.

 

“I can't have your parents thinking of me like that! Like I'm some twitchy, paranoid freak that took their son's virginity and convinces him to fool around in the woods after dark? No thank you. _God_.” Craig rolled his eyes, wrapping his arm around Tweek's shoulders and pulling him into his side.

 

“Tweek, honey, calm down, okay? My parents don't think you're a freak. They _like_ you. They see you as my boyfriend of almost seven years whom I love very much. They would honestly be more surprised if we _weren't_ fucking.” Tweek made a strange sound in the back of his throat, lips pressed tightly together, as if he weren't thoroughly convinced.

 

“I'll never be able to look them in the eyes again.” Tweek muttered, his head still in his hands and shaky fingers running through his hair. Craig resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he rubbed soothing circles into Tweek's back.

 

They did end up finding Craig's shirt, after what felt like hours of poking around in the bushes where Craig had managed to scrape himself three times, all on the same arm. Really, he would have preferred just leaving without it, considering it was nearly one o'clock in the morning when he finally returned home, and by then his parents had been long asleep. It wasn't even a shirt he _liked_ , just a white undershirt, the kind that came in packs of three for $2.99 at Walmart and could be easily replaced, along with two other duplicates. Not worth the struggle at all. Other than, of course, the fact that it gave Tweek peace of mind and helped calm him considerably once Craig was no longer bare chested and exposed to the slight chill of the Colorado spring air. What they _didn't_ find, however, were Tweek's pants, a situation he was oddly calm about. When Craig asked him why, he simply shrugged and said,

 

“I do weird stuff all the time: my parents won't notice.” And that was that.

 

What Craig hadn't accounted for that night, above all else, was that it would awaken Tweek's sudden interest in exhibitionism. Apparently, there had been something about getting fucked outdoors, under the watchful gaze of the stars and the galaxies and the cosmic eyes of God, that made him want to push his luck even further. Craig was, once again, just along for the ride. He didn't question it when Tweek slid in next to him in their booth at City Wok four days later, and he didn't bat an eye when he felt a warm palm rest on his thigh. Sure, it wasn't their _usual_ behavior, but the beauty of dating someone like Tweek was that he was full of surprises, making every day an adventure. He did, however, furrow his brow when he felt Tweek's mouth against the shell of his ear, whispering,

 

“Do you trust me?” In a sultry, devious voice. Still, Craig wasn't about to tell his neurotic boyfriend that _no,_ he didn't, not when he said things like _that,_ sounding oh so suspicious, so he nodded and continued eating his fried rice as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. Tweek rested his head against Craig's shoulder, ignoring the food in front of him in favor of slowly inching his hand up Craig's thigh, his touch delicate and teasing, as if he were only touching with his fingertips. And Craig, well, he wasn't thirteen anymore. Touches like that didn't outwardly affect him in the same way they did when he was in middle school. His leg didn't jerk, his cheeks didn't glow red, his hands didn't shake with anticipation -there was no indication Tweek had that his touch was doing much of anything. Except, however, for the fact that Craig's left hand had stilled, midway between his plate and his mouth, and that his pupils were dilated.

 

“I want to try something.” Tweek whispered against the shell of Craig's ear, hot breath ghosting over warm skin in a way that had goose flesh appearing on his boyfriend's forearms. He pressed the palm of his hand against Craig's crotch, cupping his bulge before rubbing slow circles, just subtly enough to avoid stares from outside eyes. Craig continued eating as if nothing was happening, but Tweek saw the pink tint that was beginning to crawl up his neck and felt the soft, subtle twitch of the muscles on his thigh. Tweek grinned and pressed a soft, almost innocent kiss to the side of Craig's neck before patting him on the shoulder -an overly friendly and casual gesture- before turning toward his food. The hand on Craig's rapidly hardening dick not daring to pause it's slow, teasing movements.

 

To an outside eye, it would appear as if they were merely two lovers on an innocent outing for cheap Chinese food, huddled together to embrace in nonsexual closeness as they giggled and whispered secrets to each other, the picture of pure and untainted adolescence. Tweek's hand, ducked under the table and seemingly unmoving to the eyes of anyone not glancing under the table, would look as though it were casually resting upon his boyfriend's thigh, a gesture intimate enough to only be shared between lovers, but casual enough for those surrounding to not bat an eye at it. As a matter of fact, the more Craig glanced around the inside of the restaurant, the more he realized that _no one_ seemed to be paying either of them any mind, which made him hum out a quiet sigh of relief -one Tweek must have mistaken for pleasure, judging by the way he smirked and applied just the slightest bit more pressure to his movements. If Craig were being entirely honest with himself, he had to admit that Tweek's idea was somewhat brilliant, just inconspicuous enough to get away with their mischief without getting caught, while public enough to add a sense of thrill.

 

When the button on his jeans was expertly undone, Tweek some how managing to get it open with only one hand an minimal shoulder movement, and a hand plunged into his underwear, Craig had to shove a large fork full of fried rice into his mouth to keep from making noise. He glanced at his boyfriend from the corner of his eye, noticing his soft smile as he calmly ate his food, his other hand wrapped around the shaft of Craig's dick, skin fully on skin. His breath hitched and he tried desperately to keep his hips still, knowing that there'd be no subtle way to roll them into Tweek's touch, and it was important that they stay as inconspicuous as possible. He felt Tweek's palm slide up his skin, grip just firm enough to add pressure without hurting and touch just soft enough to feel like velvet and sweat and skin surrounding Craig's dick. He clamped his mouth shut, determined to not make a sound as Tweek's pace began to increase before closing his palm over over the head of Craig's cock and rubbing in slow, tantalizing circles.

 

Craig took a deep breath, his fingers twitching slightly and every muscle in his being tensed. He tried to find the right amount of composure necessary for scooping up fork fulls of rice and shoveling them into his mouth, but he found that his hands were much too shaky for such a delicate and intricate process. So instead, he opted to throw his arm around Tweek's shoulders, attempting to look like an overly affectionate couple cuddling at a restaurant booth in their spare moment together. He let his eyes flutter closed, partly because he felt as though looking sleepy added to the _innocence_ aspect he was trying to achieve, but partly to relinquish some of his anxieties. Perhaps, he thought to himself, if his closed his eyes and tuned out the world around him, he could forget just how _illegal_ this entire process was. The last thing he wanted was to be caught with a hands down his pants at a favorable artifact of South Park cusine. Not only was he _certain_ the both of them would get in trouble -enough so that Tweek would avoid him for a week- but also because his friends would never let either of them live it down. And that, of course, would mean that Tweek would be too terrified and embarrassed to ever try something of the sort again. And, well, _that_ just wouldn't do. So he pressed his lips together and tried to keep his own movements as limited as possible, as Tweek's hand continued to stroke him, slow and teasing and _torturous._

 

Craig didn't realize the issues with Tweek's plan until after he finished and everything in his pants kind of... squished. As a matter of fact, he hand't even considered the fact that Tweek's hand would be dirtied as well, enough so that Craig could see the frozen fear morph behind his boyfriend's eyes as he began to pull away, his other hand desperately searching for napkins. Craig shifted in his seat, which he quickly realized was a mistake, because once he was no longer hard and horny, he began to realize just how _gross_ everything felt.

 

Maybe, he decided, public hand jobs _weren't_ worth a second try, after all.

 

They did, however, continue their journey of sexual exploration, as Tweek always seemed to come up with newer and stranger ideas. Or, maybe not _strange_ , but they were all certainly unconventional. Which wasn't a problem, because Craig didn't really have any hard limits. He liked Tweek. He liked having sex with Tweek. In all honesty, they could do _anything_ even remotely intimate and Craig would be happy. They delved further into bondage and other, more mild forms of sado-masochism, which had initially been awkward, especially when Tweek was insistent on getting hurt -spanked, choked, things of that nature. There had been a point where he had begged Craig to grip his thighs so hard, his hands would leave purple bruises in their wake. And it wasn't that Craig _didn't_ want to do it, because he'd do anything to seem his boyfriend happy and satisfied, anything to make Tweek feel good, but he was scared that he'd go too far and end up hurting his love. He had always seen Tweek as more delicate than himself, smaller and more slender, with skin that bruised too easily and anxiety levels that made his body quiver and his hair fall out. He wasn't _weak_ -God forbid Craig ever describe he boyfriend as anything aside from strong, beautiful, and amazing- but he wasn't exactly a brick wall, either.

 

The way Tweek liked it, they would experiment with the same kink or position or _whatever_ it was that he wanted to try out before he got bored and moved on to something else entirely. Basic things, however, always stayed the same. Tweek liked to be kissed, deep and passionate with lots of tongue, and he hated when their teeth clinked together -the sound always making him cringe hard enough to shrivel away from contact for a few moments. He loved getting his ass eaten, but only if he had showered within the last twenty minuets and made absolute certain to use the bathroom with in the last thirty, before his shower, something Craig would always be grateful for. He didn't _mind_ eating Tweek out, but he did have certain standards of cleanliness he required before hand. Tweek liked it when Craig ran his fingers through his hair, especially when it was pulled and Craig's fingernails would lightly run over his scalp. And, the most important of all, Craig would always, _always_ , top- regardless of whatever it was they were trying. Sure, there were times when Tweek took control, when he had his own plans of what would happen, but they still had their _roles_ , and that was what worked for them. Tweek liked getting butt fucked far too much to ever consider doing the fucking, and Craig was content with doing whatever it was that made his boyfriend happy.

 

So when Tweek asked Craig to come over, sometime during the summer between their Junior and Senior years of high school, and mentioned that his parents would be out for the day, Craig obviously assumed that they'd be trying something different. They had been experimenting with edging the past few times they'd been intimate, which took a lot of Craig's self control to keep himself from holding his boyfriend -who would usually be so overwhelmed that he'd begun to cry, but insisted that they didn't need to stop, nor did he use the safe word- close and whispering sweet nothings in his ear. Telling Tweek he wasn't allowed to cum when he was tearful and withering made Craig feel like a heartless asshole sometimes, and although Tweek had liked it the first few times, he was clearly starting to get bored. Sometimes Craig could almost see the gears turning in his head as he came up with another new and exciting kink to try.

 

Craig wasn't new to the Tweak's home, obviously. He had been dating Tweek for nearly seven years, and he knew that, reasonably, he could just walk inside and make himself at home without complaint, but he still knocked on the door, anyway, mostly because he knew his boyfriend would _never_ leave his front door unlocked. At least, that was what he had always assumed. He waited outside for what felt like too long when his phone vibrated in his front pocket, a text from Tweek that said,

 

“ _The door's unlocked. Come upstairs ;)”_

 

When Craig walked into Tweek's room, he had been anticipating a lot of things, but what he found had certainly _not_ been one of them. Tweek was sprawled out on his bed lazily, but his pose just sexy enough for Craig to know that it was deliberate, carefully planned just as everything else about his outward appearance had been. His hair was still wild and messy as ever, from how much he ran his fingers through it and tugged when he was stressed or anxious, but it was more brushed out than usual, and he had a few pins in place to hook back particularly long or wild strands of blond. His skin looked smooth and dewy, with a little bit of some sort of shimmery powder dusted across his cheekbones and the tip of his nose. He must have covered his dark circles with makeup, as well, because what used to be creased and heavy panda eyes now looked smooth and seemed to match the rest of his skin tone, like he finally got enough sleep. His eyebrows looked fuller and darker, less of a sparse, light blond that they'd used to be and more like the makeup gurus on Instagram. Surrounding his eyes were thick, dark lashes coated in mascara, and his lips were rosy and glossed and full.

 

Craig allowed his eyes to travel down Tweek's body, were he was wearing a crisp, white button down, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a little red ribbon tied into a bow around his collar. Around his hips hung a short, red and black plaid skirt, flowey and pleated and barely reaching the tops of his thighs. Craig was sure that if Tweek were to roll over, his ass wouldn't be completely covered. He was wearing white stockings, the kinds that came as two pieces and hemmed at his mid thigh, held up by white garter straps and decorated with red bows. He was dressed like a sexy school girl, and Craig was almost certain that he'd never be able to close his jaw again.

 

When their eyes met, Tweek smiled softly and he shifted in his place, turning to lay on his side and pop his hip into the air. He propped his head up on his elbow, his fingers tangling in his blond hair as he let his free hand slide down his body sensually, stopping at the hem of his skirt. Craig swallowed thickly, his face heating up at just the _idea_ of flipping up that skirt and burring his face between those thighs. He couldn't think of anything he wanted more.

 

“Tweek,” he almost cringed at how quiet his voice sounded, at an utter loss for words and he briefly wondered if his hands were shaking. Were his hands shaking? He couldn't even concentrate on himself when the most beautiful person in the known universe was teasling running his finger tips up and down the curve of his own waist.

 

“Mm,” Tweek said back, lifting the corner of his skirt ever so slightly as his eyes glinted with something _dangerous_. Fuck. Craig was so fucked. He moved again, from his position laying down to sit up on his knees as he smoothed the skirt out and beckoned Craig to come closer. Craig wouldn't have been able to stop his feet from moving if he'd _wanted_ to, and he certainly wouldn't have been able to keep his hands from resting on Tweek's waist, absentmindedly stroking his hip. “Do you like it?” Tweek whispered in his ear, arms draping around Craig's shoulders. And although his voice took on a teasing sort of tone, Craig knew it was a genuine question.

 

“Yes,” he said, voice breathy and soft because he still couldn't seem to force the words from his throat the same way he always did. Talking was so much more difficult when he was stricken with lust and shock. “Yes, holy shit, fuck yes.” he moved his hands to run up the exposed skin of Tweek's thighs, snapping one of the garter straps lightly and reveling in how _soft_ they felt under his hands. Come to think of it, everything felt soft under his hands and as he glanced over Tweek once again, he realized that his boyfriend had _shaved his fucking legs_ for this. Craig smoothed his hands up under the skirt, breath hitching when his thumb stroked Tweek's underwear and felt _lace_ where cotton would have usually been. His eyes flicked up to meet Tweek's and before he could even get a word out, his boyfriend's sweet, beautiful voice filled his ears with the absolute _best_ request.

 

“Kiss me?” He asked, and kiss him Craig did. Their lips met in something that was sloppy and deep and Tweek opened his mouth almost immediately, an invitation for Craig's tongue to invade. He moaned, soft and high pitched and absolutely _musical_ as Craig's grip tightened on his soft, smooth thighs and he pressed their bodies closer together.

 

“I'm going to _ravish_ you.” Craig murmured and Tweek gasped against his lips, fingers tangling into dark, silky hair.

 

“Please.” He said, voice a soft whimper and Craig moaned at the mere sound of his pretty voice, of his pretty, pretty begging. He hooked his finger under the ribbon around Tweek's collar, tugging his off so he could undo all the buttons on that clean, white shirt, letting his hang open and off his boyfriend's shoulder to reveal how flushed his chest looked. Craig swallowed, taking a moment to appreciate smooth skin, yet to be tainted by dark, bruising hickies, before latching his mouth along Tweek's collarbone and sucking the skin between his teeth. Tweek gasped and tugged at Craig's hair, hands and thighs already quivering with anticipation.

 

When his clothes had been thrown away, revealing white lace panties, barely large enough to cover his dick, flushed and hard and practically begging for attention, and a white garter belt, Craig had to take a moment to calm himself, a deep breath in before letting a shaky one out. Before, Craig had never thought of himself as having a “thing” for anything in particular. He just liked sex. And not even that, he liked sex with _Tweek_ , so anything they did that his boyfriend seemed to enjoy, Craig could get into, but _holy fuck_ did he have a thing for lingerie, which, thinking about it now, when he wasn't horny and his judgement clouded in lush, seemed kind of strange, considering he had never been super attracted to femininity. Unless, it appeared, it was on Tweek. Because the second Tweek was in a skirt and makeup and all that pretty, pure white lace, Craig couldn't control himself. He had his boyfriend bent over the edge of the bed, panties around his thighs and ass up in the air, and when he slid inside, the sensation was heaven.

 

Later, when they were finished and laying together cuddling, their bodies slick with sweat and flushed and Tweek's thighs still shaking, Craig considered lighting a cigarette. The fuck had been hard and intense, the sort of thing that had Tweek screaming, his body tainted with bruises and hickies as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes as Craig's teeth sunk into the skin of his shoulder. He wondered if Tweek would be sore the next day, enough so that he wouldn't be able to walk without a limp, and Craig wasn't sure if he should have felt proud or guilty at that prospect. Perhaps a bit of both. He watched as he boyfriend began to nod off, still clinging on to him like a koala bear, his head buried in the crook of Craig's neck, and he smiled softly, wondering what he could have possibly done to get so lucky.

 

When Craig wasn't with Tweek, he would either be couped up in his room, watching Red Racer reruns in his pajamas, or with his friends, who seemed to always have some sort of stupid idea that would get them in trouble. Clyde liked to drink. Token liked to throw parties. Jimmy spent a lot of time loudly talking about sex. When they mixed the three together, it was almost legendary in how fucking _stupid_ they all seemed to become. Craig never dragged Tweek to Token's parties, mostly because Tweek hated being around all those people for so long when he was sober, and for the past few parties he had refused to drink, due to fear of alcohol poisoning, and refused to get high because the _last_ time he got high at a party, he had ended up losing his virginity to his equally fucked up boyfriend in someone else's bedroom. So he ended up sitting on Token's couch on a Saturday afternoon in late July, pregaming before his party and listening to Clyde drone on and on about his pathetic sex life. At some point between Token's last party and the start of summer break he had, apparently, managed to convince Bebe Stevens to sleep with him, and then continue to pursue a relationship. Which was fine by Craig. He liked Bebe okay, thought she was nice enough and not completely boring, but he really couldn't have given less of a shit about he sexual relationship with Clyde.

 

“And she's on this weird celibacy kick, where she doesn't want to do _anything_ until she gets back on birth control. Like, I can't even _kiss_ her.” Craig glanced up from his phone just long enough to roll his eyes and swallow a mouthful of vodka from a plastic red cup. “It's not _fair_. Why is it that I'm the only one in a relationship but I get the least amount of action?” Craig paused his typing, slowly tearing his eyes away from his phone screen to give Clyde and odd look.

 

“I'm dating Tweek.” He said. “I've been dating Tweek for almost seven years.” Clyde looked like he wanted to say something, and Craig raised his brows, as if challenging him to do just that, but he didn't. For what was perhaps the first time in his life, Clyde kept his stupid mouth shut.

 

Once the party had actually started, Craig found himself as far away from it as possible, a half empty bottle of grey goose cradled in his arms like an infant as he sat on the steps of Token's back porch. He was with Kenny McCormick, drinking and blowing through a pack of Marlboro Reds and shooting the shit. He and Kenny weren't friends exactly, but they get along okay. Kenny provided Craig with half priced weed and sometimes free cigarettes, if they smoke them together, and overall, Craig thought he was a tolerable person. He was probably the only person outside of Craig's tight knit group of friends he could actually stand and the only reason they weren't closer than they were was because Craig absolutely _despised_ the people Kenny chose to surround himself with. Luckily, Stan and Kyle and Eric fucking Cartman decided not to show up, so that left Kenny with Craig and Craig with someone to talk to while his friends got shitfaced and danced a little too sloppily and spoke a little too loud. Craig had never liked parties, but he liked drinking and he liked getting high and, to some degree, he _kind of_ liked his friends, so he still accepted Token's invitations.

 

Kenny had asked him about Tweek at some point, but Craig had just begun to realize that he was crossfaded and everything was spinning, so he hadn't answered right away. He just stared at his feet and the half empty bottle in his arms with his brows knit together, wondering why he was thinking about Tweek so much in the first place. That was, until, Kenny snapped his fingers in front of Craig's face and blew a puff of menthol scented smoke in his direction.

 

“Dude, are you even listening to me?” Craig raised his head, some what confused about what the fuck it was they were talking about and he gave Kenny a weird look, who sighed in return before taking another drag of his cigarette. “I asked about Tweek? Is he doing okay?” Craig patted his jeans pocket, suddenly feeling the urge to text his boyfriend and maybe ditch the fucking party in exchange for making out with him, but he couldn't seem to find his phone.

 

“Yeah, sorry, he's...” Craig trailed off, eyes focused on _something_ in the distance that was probably just a lightning bug or some shit, but to his drunk brain, it looked like a pixie. He swallowed and tried again. “He's okay. He dressed up like a school girl last night and begged me to fuck him.” Shit, Craig probably wasn't supposed to share that with anyone. Tweek would probably kill him if he were there. Or die of embarrassment. Kenny didn't react much, aside from an amused snort and the raising of his brow.

 

“Kinky.” He said, flicking the burnt out butt of his cigarette to the ground, squishing it under the sole of his beaten up converse. Craig shrugged, unscrewing the cap of his vodka and taking a large gulp straight from the bottle. He was startled, however, when he suddenly felt his phone vibrate from the pocket of his sweatshirt, almost certain that it hadn't been there before. He checked his messages, seeing a text from Tweek.

 

_Can I come over? I think the ghosts in my closet are trying to kill me._

 

Craig sighed, trying to type out the most coherent response he could.

 

_'m drunmk_

 

Yeah, good job, Tucker. You are the true master of eloquence.

 

_And really high_

 

He hiccuped, his thumb accidentally mashing against the touch screen key board and sending a random slew of gibberish that would surely leave Tweek flustered and worried.

 

_Sorry didn meadn to send that_

 

_not home rn, at Token's_

 

Tweek took a while to respond, probably busy trying to hide from fictional monsters and ghouls trapped in his room. Tweek's therapist had once told him that his paranoia was a manifestation of his childhood trauma and real fears, forming into things a younger child could understand. But Craig always thought that was bullshit, because Tweek was almost seventeen and perfectly capable of dealing with his fears without picturing them as literal monsters. He had always thought therapists were full of shit, anyway.

 

_Fuck man, I gotta get out of the house. Can I come to Token's?_

 

Craig shrugged, before remembering that Tweek couldn't see him, so he tried his best to focus on his words and his thumbs and not sound like a complete jackass.

 

_He's havin a party babe_

 

Not thirty seconds later, Craig's phone buzzed again.

 

… _.Oh_

 

Kenny glanced at Craig's screen, clearly reading over his shoulder, but Craig was too fucked up to care. His boyfriend was scared and needed someone and Craig was too busy blowing smoke at a party to be there. He felt like an asshole.

 

_I can leave? Im not habving fun anyway._

 

Kenny snorted, flicking his lighter to life as another cigarette dangled between his lips. “Shit, am I not good enough for ya, Craig?” He asked, and the rational part of Craig knew it was a joke, but he couldn't seem to filter a damn thing he said and his boyfriend was scared and alone and Craig _wasn't there with him_.

 

“Fuck off, McCormick.” He grumbled, leg bouncing as he waited for Tweek to reply. Kenny grinned around his cigarette, finally flicking it to life and taking a long drag.

 

 _Please_ , Tweek said, and Craig was ready to sprint home right then and there. He would have, too, had Kenny not placed his hand on Craig's shoulder, keeping him in place.

 

“Dude, calm down. You're really fucked up, lemme drive you home.” Craig stared at him for a moment, not knowing why the fuck he couldn't just walk back to his house before he remembered that he brought his car with him, his keys still resting in his front pants pocket. He glanced between Kenny and his phone before sighing loudly, feeling somewhat defeated.

 

“Should I trust you?” He asked and Kenny grinned, showing off the cute gap between his canine tooth and his molar. Craig would by lying if he said he had never found Kenny McCormick attractive, but there had always been something about his demeanor that Craig found off putting. Even from a purely hypothetical stand point, the closest he could ever see himself getting to Kenny would be a drunken one night stand that they'd both regret the next morning. And maybe, if Craig were single, that would have been tonight. Or maybe it would have been the last time Token had a party, or even the time before that. Thinking about the possibility left Craig even more thankful that he had the relationship he did. Because Craig knew himself, and he knew that if he didn't have his wonderful, perfect, amazing boyfriend that he loved dearly, he would absolutely find himself stuck on the wrong end of a McCormick blow job.

 

“Do you have a better idea?” Kenny asked and Craig shrugged, his gaze falling to his shoes. “C'mon dude, I haven't even had much to drink tonight. Like, two beers. Tops. Besides, I'm scared your crossfaded ass will wander into the middle of the street and get hit by a car.” Craig thought that was a good point because he was starting to have a hard time distinguishing up from down and he knew Kenny could _drive_ , considering he took his dad's truck all the time, but he just wasn't sure if Kenny could drive _legally_ , and the last thing he needed was to get pulled over.

 

“Where are you gonna go?” He asked, and cringed when his words slurred a little. He felt a bubble rise in his chest and prayed to _God_ that it wasn't a hiccup. Kenny shrugged, leaning back on his hands.

 

“Your parents are out of town, right?” Craig nodded. “Then I'll just crash at your place.” Craig must have made a face at that, because Kenny snorted, running a hand through his messy blond hair. “C'mon, dude, I'll pass out on the couch downstairs and you can do whatever it is you and Tweek do when he's scared shitless up in your room. You won't even know I'm there.”

 

“Fuck, fine.” Craig sighed, fishing out his car keys before tossing them to Kenny, who caught them expertly. “Let's just get the fuck out of here.”

 

They didn't bother saying their goodbyes to Token, or any of the others, for that matter, as Craig practically pulled Kenny outside before shoving the both of them toward his car. It wasn't anything special, just a beat up, old Toyota Corolla with the blue paint beginning to flake off and a slight dent in the passenger side door from the time Craig had attempted to drive home tipsy and he scraped the side of his car against a light post. He still hadn't told his parents what actually happened, which meant that he still had yet to get the damn thing fixed. Kenny wasn't the worst driver, but he was easily distracted and didn't like to use his blinker when he changed lanes, which drunk Craig didn't care much about, but sober Craig found absolutely terrifying when looking back on it. When they got to Craig's house, car pulled into his drive way and engine turned off, they found Tweek sitting on the front door steps, knees pulled up to his chest and head buried between them.

 

“Babe?” Craig said, as softly as he possibly could. Tweek's head snapped up and for a moment, Craig feared he might cry from relief. That was, until, his eyes drifted to Kenny, who was standing behind Craig with his hands shoved in his pockets and a goofy, crooked grin on his face. Tweek's face shrunk back into something anxious and timid and Craig felt like kicking himself. He had forgotten about his boyfriend's history with Kenny McCormick, as well as the rest of those assholes he chose to hang out with, and wondered if and ex-friend from his childhood was enough to send him into a panic attack. Craig felt like the world's _worst_ boyfriend. “Sorry about Kenny.” He said, glancing over his shoulder to shoot Kenny a look, who only grinned in return. “He just drove me home, he'll be leaving now.”

 

“Like hell I will.” Kenny snorted, pushing past the two of them in order to unlock the front door. Craig had to stop himself from sneering as he watched. “You promised me a place to stay, Tucker. I let you smoke my weed and my cigarettes and I drive you home, you let me crash on your couch. It's only fair.” He pushed his way through the front door, slamming it a little too loudly behind him, and leaving Tweek and Craig to their own devices out in the summer air -which was beginning to get cool. Tweek visibly shivered, turning his head to the side so as not to look Craig directly in the eyes. Despite the chill of the air, his cheeks burned bright red and his bottom lip ever so slightly poked out in something that was reminiscent of a pout. He crossed his arms over his chest, partly to allow his body language to portray stubbornness and partly because of the goose flesh beginning to poke out from under his skin.

 

“Tweek? Honey?” Craig tried his best to keep his voice soft and comforting, but he was having a hard time deciphering what pitch was appropriate and he couldn't seem to get the Earth to stop spinning from underneath his feet. Tweek glanced at him from the corner of his eye before quickly looking down at his feet, scuffing them slightly against the pavement. “Baby? Are you gonna talk to me?” Craig reached out to place his hand on his boyfriend's shoulder, but he felt his heat drop when Tweek flinched away.

 

“Why did you _bring_ him?” Tweek asked, tone accusing and haughty, as if Craig had allowed Kenny to sleep at his house for the sole purpose of pissing his boyfriend off. Craig was a bit taken aback, far too intoxicated to be able to come up with a suitable reply in a reasonable amount of time. He blinked slowly, retracting his hand and staring at Tweek dumbfounded.

 

“Uh,” he said, eloquently. “What?” Tweek huffed and rolled his eyes, sitting up a little bit straighter as if to appear intimidating, which would have been laughable in any other situation.

 

“You _brought_ him here. You let him into your _house_ , and drive your _car_. Why?” Craig furrowed his brows, scowling down at is feet as he racked his brain for a suitable answer.

 

“I'm real drunk, babe.” He said and watched as Tweek's lip twitched slightly, then the tips of his fingers. Craig hiccuped, much to his embarrassment. “I couldn't, like, _drive_ like this, and I couldn't leave my car at Token's, so Kenny drove me home. Sorry, I know you don't like him-”

 

“Don't like him.” Tweek scoffed, rolling his eyes as Craig watched his fists clench. “I don't –Nngh,” Tweek made a strange noise before throwing his head between his knees, finger tangling into his hair as he began tugging at it. Craig watched in horror, his body desperately wanting to do something to help, but his brain too slow to catch up. “Don't ever - _don't ever_ \- bring him into your house, again. Don't you _ever!_ ” Tweek was shouting now, his voice loud enough to wake the entire neighborhood as he continued to tug at his hair, pulling it out in chunks. Craig put his hands up in surrender.

  
  


“Okay, okay, honey, calm down, okay?” He knew he made a mistake when Tweek paused, aside from that horrible, _horrible_ twitching in his fingers, and slowly lifted his head, glaring daggers in Craig's direction.

  
  


“ _Don't tell me to calm down!_ ” He screeched and Craig flinched, hands flying up toward his ears to cover them, his drunk brain unable to keep up with the volume levels hurdled his way. “I'm allowed to be pissed, man! I'm allowed to _hate_ him, I'm allowed to feel insecure when you're off at some party I wasn't invited to, getting drunk with the _whore_ of South Park. And then you let him sleep on your _couch_? Like I don't even _matter_?” Craig tried to follow everything Tweek was saying, but he couldn't keep up. Everything was just too loud. He didn't have the mental capacity to deal with all those shitty emotions. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but he was cut off by a short “ _save it!_ ” as Tweek stormed off, stomping his feet down the road as he seethed in his walk. Craig was stupid to not chase after him.

  
  


When he got inside, he was greeted with the image of Kenny sprawled out on the couch in his boxers and his bright orange hoodie, watching Nascar on the TV. Craig narrowed his eyes at the display, as if it were Kenny's fault to begin with, but he chose not to blow a fuse. Instead, he sighed and told Kenny to move over before sprawling himself out on the cushions, his head thrown over the back of the couch. He got a strange look from the other boy, but not questions, which was nice, to say the least, and they continued to watched the races in peace until Craig began to nod off, too tired and pissed and emotional to stay up much longer.

  
  


He woke up with a horrible, splitting headache and a sore chink in his neck, probably from the awkward sleeping angle. He couldn't remember much about the previous night, other than the painful awareness that Tweek was mad at him -for _whatever_ reason. That, and that Kenny McCormick was curled up next to him, snoring loudly and occasionally mumbling some sort of nonsense under his breath. Most of it was complete gibberish, with a few slurred, random words thrown in that managed to make Craig want to punch him in the noise. Or maybe he was just feeling a lot of general anger over his situation with Tweek and needed someone to take it out on, and Kenny just happened to be right there. He rolled his neck, which only caused more pain to shoot through his head, and attempted to pop his knuckles, which made hideous cracking noises that would probably make a normal person shudder. He stood, stretching his arms and back out slightly before yawning and patting his pockets down for his phone, cursing himself when he couldn't seem to find it. He wasn't entirely sure what they had fought about, but he figured he should at least call Tweek to apologize. He smacked Kenny on the shoulder, who snorted awake and rubbed at his eyes when the morning light shined into them. Craig crossed his arms over his chest, scowling.

  
  


“Wake up, I'm driving you home.” Kenny groaned before turning his head to the side and burying it in the couch cushions, messy hair creating a blond halo around his head.

  
  


“Fuck dude, it's _early_.” He whined and Craig sighed dramatically.

  
  


“It's ten o'clock in the morning. Get up.”

  
  


Craig probably drove faster than he should have in his attempt to take Kenny home, but he was hung over and pissed and fed up with _everything_ , so he didn't really care when he drove twenty-five miles over the speed limit and barely gave him car time to full stop before pushing Kenny out of it. He didn't even wait for the fucker to get inside before driving off, turning his stupid, piece of shit car around to head towards Tweek's house. He wasn't sure if showing up unannounced was a good idea, but he couldn't seem to find his phone anywhere and he desperately needed to talk to his boyfriend. Tweek was the one to answer the door, luckily, his parents probably already at the coffee shop and leaving him to his own devices for the day. He looked like a mess, eyes red and puffy from crying, lips torn up from the way he had probably bitten at them, fingers covered in band-aids when he picked at his cuticles. The sight was kind of pitiful, and Craig's heart sank when he remembered that _he_ was the cause of it. They stared at each other for a moment, tension thick as a million and one words of apology ran through Craig's mind, but before he could say a single one of them, he felt Tweek's body hurl into his own, face buried in his shoulder and arms thrown around his shoulders. Craig held him back, his own arms squeezing around Tweek's waist as he rested his chin on top of wild blond hair.

  
  


“I'm sorry.” Tweek whispered, his voice sounding so broken, as if he had strained it from crying. Craig kissed the top of his head and squeezed him closer and wondered how many words he'd have to say, how many comforts and validations he'd have to give, before he made Tweek realize how beautiful and incredible and important he is.

  
  


“I'm sorry, too.” He said, instead, because that was what Tweek needed in that moment, and he would always be willing to give his boyfriend the things he wanted. Always.

  
  


“I love you. I'm stupid.” Craig hummed.

  
  


“You're not stupid.” He said and maybe if he had been paying better attention, he would have felt the corners of Tweek's lips tilt upwards against his collarbone. “And I love you too.”

  
  


They don't stay outside for long, opting to instead spend the day playing video games and hanging out. That idea, however, was thrown out the window when Tweek pressed his lips to Craig's and dragged him upstairs, toward the bedroom. They end up having sex, because Tweek likes to fuck when he's emotional and they both need that sort of intimate closeness to comfort bother each other and themselves. Craig lays flat on his back, staring up at the most beautiful person he's ever met as he sinks himself down on Craig's cock, moaning and whimpering and withering at the stretch. It's slow and gentle and beautiful and everything Craig had ever wanted. When they're finished and spent and _dirty_ , they shower together, washing away the sweat and grime and guilt and negative feelings. They share sweet, tender kisses under the shower spray and hold each other close, basking in hot water and love. Craig thinks it might be one of his favorite memories.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Craig is now twenty eight years old and he's making a pot of coffee at eight o'clock on a Saturday morning. Not because he wants to drink coffee -he's always been more of a tea and hot chocolate kind of guy, anyway- but because it's his fifth year wedding anniversary and he wants to surprise his husband with breakfast in bed. The problem is, he has no idea how to make those banana chocolate chip pancakes Tweek likes so much, just because he knows his husband is very particular about how they're made. His husband is particular about a lot of things, which most of the time Craig finds _adorable_ , but sometimes it stresses him out.

  
  


He taps his left ring finger against the metallic coffee pot and kind of likes the way his wedding bang reverberates against it, creating a _ring_ that travels throughout the apartment. He suddenly remembers that he still needs to pick up orange juice from the grocery store, not so much because he needs it right this second, but more because Tweek likes to drink orange juice with his bowl of cereal on Tuesday mornings and if they're still out by then, he'll have a pretty miserable day. Craig sighs. Maybe he'll just say _fuck it_ to the pancakes and go to a diner instead. Tweek really likes the one down the street, a humble little place just on the out skirts of Denver, and they're kind of friends with the owner. He makes better banana chocolate chip pancakes than Craig ever could, anyway. Maybe they'll go sometime around eleven, when they've had enough time to drink their coffee and shower and watch those old reruns of Law and Order that still haven't been deleted off the DVR because Tweek loves them.

  
  


When the coffee is finished, he pours it into a large thermos and takes it back into the bedroom. He left it black, just the way his husband likes, and is careful not to wake said sleeping beauty as he creeps past the slightly ajar door. Tweek is sleeping peacefully, having managed to work through a lot of childhood trauma that used to keep him up at night and found peace within himself. Craig is always going to be proud of him for that. He sets the thermos on the bedside table near Tweek's head before gently shaking his shoulder, waking him up. Tweek cracks his eyes open, smiling softly when he sees Craig's face hovering over him.

  
  


“Good morning.” He murmurs before letting out a soft yawn. He rubs he eyes and slowly sits up to meet Craig's lips with his own.

  
  


“Good morning, honey.” Craig says back, cupping Tweek's cheek in the palm of his hand. “I made you coffee.” Tweek eyes the thermos next to him, humming in content. He kisses Craig again, this time deeper and more passionate. The sheets pool around his lower half, hiding the face that he's naked underneath and that his hips and thighs are covered in hickies. He's probably still sore. Craig isn't sorry. “Happy anniversary.” He murmurs when they pull away, a smile gracing his lips. Tweek strokes the side of Craig's jaw with his thumb, his own sweet smile creeping up on his face.

  
  


“Happy anniversary.” He says back, pecking Craig one more time before tending to his coffee.

  
  


They go out to dinner that night, some fancy steak house eleven miles away from their apartment that they spend way too much money on. Craig supposes it wouldn't have been too horrifically expensive, had they not also ordered the forty dollar bottle of red wine and the chocolate cake for desert, but he thinks it's worth it, judging by the way Tweek keeps looking at him like he's everything. And maybe he would've gotten that expression if they had gone to Burger King for their anniversary dinner, but Craig is kind of a sucker for romantic garbage and he likes the idea of getting dressed up in their nice button downs and black slacks and spending over three hundred dollars on one meal, all for the sake of celebration. Tweek looks as handsome as he did on their wedding night -as well as every other night before and since then- and Craig counts his blessings. He doesn't understand how he can be so lucky to have found someone he holds so dearly, someone who can light up his world with a single smile, but he refuses to take that sort of luck for granted.

  
  


When they get home, Tweek whispers in Craig's ear that he had another present for him to unwrap, and Craig eagerly follows him into the bedroom. He's full and a little tired, but apparently his dick hasn't gotten the memo because he's already standing at half mast from excitement. Tweek will never stop being sexually adventurous, but they've gotten older and more experienced and found things that they like the best, and Craig hopes to _God_ that he and Tweek are on the same page tonight.

  
  


Craig is not disappointed when he takes off his husband's clothes to find lacy red lingerie underneath and his has to take a moment to breath before absolutely _ravishing_ him.

 


End file.
